The Meeting Place
by memorykey3
Summary: What happens when our favorite captain runs into the Master of Death at a bar? (Captain Jack Harkness X Harry Potter)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, its me. That author that some of you guys still follow. Now, I may be what you might consider a trash human being because I haven't updated my most popular story in a little under three years, but this is me trying to get back into the swing of writing. I'll be honest, I don't know if I will ever finish that other story because I don't like it and I feel as though there were only three good, thought out chapters. I stretched myself too thin and got burnt out. There was an ending that I had an outline for that story, but I lost that outline and I haven't been able to get backing into the writing mood since. I've since abandoned that story and I am extremely sorry for that. I will happily let someone adopt that story if they so chose, however I would like to keep the same ending I had in mind. If there are any interested parties, do not hesitate to message me. Thank you so much for sticking with me this long. I wholeheartedly appreciate it.

Now, I've dabbled with a oneshot in another account, and while it isn't that popular, it made me happy (as for this story, you can find it under my favorites in my bio. It's about the Great Gatsby). And i think that is important. I like to pour my soul out into a story and get all of my ideas out, rather than trying to continue on with a storyline that I have no idea where it is going. I refuse to leave another storyline unfinished. That's a jerk move.

Thank you, truly for your continued support and enjoy…

(This has been copied and pasted from my other story)

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"So," said the man seated across the bar from the master of death, "do you come here often?"

Piercing green eyes peered over the top of their owners glass, lips pursing for a second, giving way to speech, "Too often, I might reckon. I'm afraid they know my order here."

The other man leaned in, as if he was sharing a secret. Harry was tempted to ask him what his deal is, "And what would that be?"

It was only then that Harry noticed the other man's accent; he was American- something not uncommon and not unwelcome around these parts. It's nice to have change every once and a while. Harry raised his glass, "They call it Firewhiskey- one part whiskey and one half part cinnamon schnapps and a little something extra. It'll get your attention."

The American man raised his eyebrows, "Sounds like my type of drink. I'll have to try one."

Harry found himself nodding half heartedly, taking a sip of his own and relishing in the bite both the liquor and the cinnamon provided, "Yes, perhaps."

Once Harry looked up, he saw the American man was much closer than he started, merely one seat away from him. He could make out little details, such as his eyes being brown and the fact that his cheek probably dimpled when he smiled. Yes, he was attractive, but there was something about him that told Harry that there was more than what met the surface.

As Harry studied the other man, the American started to speak, "So, what do you say, I buy the next round and we can get to know each other."

Despite himself, Harry felt a smirk breaching the corner of his lips. He was immortal, so there was very little that this man could do to him, relatively speaking. Besides, he seemed like he may be fun to talk to. Merlin knows Harry could use a conversational partner.

Allowing the full smile out, Harry nodded, "I don't see why not. So, can I get a name, Mr. American?"

Harry's conversational partner met his smile in full force, as if he were breathing a sigh of relief, his dastardly plan of talking to the green eyed man going off without a hitch. He ordered the drinks and returned to conversation, glasses in hand, "I'm Captain Jack Harkness, and you?"

Not quite sure if Harry wants to give up his real name as that has had bad results in the past, he supplies a false one, "Hadrian Evans, at your service. What are you a captain of?"

'Jack' looked abruptly flustered, "Sorry, you're the first to ask. I'm afraid I'm not captain of anything anymore. It's force of habit still."

The master of death nodded in understanding, "I get that, I used to be something akin to a police chief, but I decided that life wasn't really for me."

"Hmmmmm? What made you decide that?"

Harry scratched the back of his head in thought, "Got too old, I suppose."

Jack leaned back in his chair, clutching his drink in a confused manner, "Too old?! You don't look a day over 20!"

Tapping his fingers on the table, the wizard took a long sip of his drink before stating, "Yes, it might seem that way, huh? I assure you, I'm much older than twenty. Perhaps even older than you, granted you don't really strike me as being the age you seem either."

The other man raised his glass, "To graceful aging, then."

Harry couldn't help but raise his glass in turn, "To graceful aging indeed."

The two men sip from their respective glasses, eyes linking across the way, air zipping with electricity. Glasses clink upon the table, leaving their owners to just take the other person in.

"Listen, Hadrian, I'm normally not this forward, but would you like to maybe do something tonight? I feel like there might be something worth exploring here," said the American, grabbing Harry's hand, seemingly out of habit.

Harry looked back at the man apologetically, "I'm so sorry, I'm actually supposed to meet someone here tonight, and", he gestures across the bar to a much older looking man, "it seems that he is here. Perhaps another time?"

Jack looks back at him, taken aback, "Oh man, I didn't mean to flirt if you are seeing someone else. Sometimes my mouth gets the best of me."

Harry waves his hand at the other man frantically, "No, no, he's just my best mate, this is the first time I've been back to London in years and I figured a visit was in order. Anything to get him away from work and nagging wife for a little bit. Figured he could use the fun."

"Ah, well I suppose that makes sense then. Well, I shouldn't keep you, after all this is your first time back in London for a bit. Besides, I can see my crew looking for me", says the American, gesturing to a rather attractive blonde girl and a tough looking guy in a leather jacket.

"Right."

"Right… so, is there anyway I can contact you?"

Harry looks back at the other man sheepishly, "I'm afraid I don't have my phone on me. Tired of working calling me during my downtime. I also don't have my number memorized."

Jack bites back a sigh, but nevertheless asks, "Do you have a pen on you?"

Harry fumbles around in his pockets, quickly transfiguring a tube of chapstick into a pen with a bit of wandless magic, "Ah, here we are", handing the pen over to the other man.

Jack grabs Harry's hand, "Mind if I…?"

Harry shakes his head, "No, go ahead."

Jack quickly scrawls his number on the other man's hand and in a swift motion downs his drink and is standing, "Well, Hadrian, I look forward to seeing you again."

Harry looks down for a brief second, as if he is embarrassed, but then links eyes with Jack once more, "Likewise."

"Call or text anytime", The 'captain' says with a wink, quickly making his way to the door to meet his companions.

Harry lets out a laugh, "Will do."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ron sits across from me in a booth, giving me a questioning look.

"What?"

"So who was that?"

"Captain Jack Harkness. He seems interesting." I says, nonplussed.

Ron gives me a scrutinizing eye, "Captain, is he? I'll look him up in our files down at the station."

I let out a chuckle, "Still so protective, eh, Ron?"

"I'm happy if you're happy, so long as you don't end up Malfoy. Doesn't mean I shouldn't be protective. You're still my best mate, Harry."

I settle a glaze upon Ron, "Thank you."

The red head grins, "No problem. Don't forget to ring this one, mate. He seemed really into you."

"I promise.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"So who was that?" Rose asks once they are back in the Tardis, "another one of your conquests?"

"Hadrian Evans," Jack replies, "and, no, I think he might be something more. If he messages me back."

Rose raises her eyebrows and shares a look with the doctor.

"I thought you were normally the one being chased, not the one doing the chasing."

Jack shrugs, "What can I say, he seemed really different. Almost as if we were on the same wavelength."

Rose pats him on the shoulder, "Here's hoping that he calls you back then."

"Here's hopin-"the American started, pausing as he felt a buzz in his pocket. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, smiling at the message he received.

The doctor places his hand on Jack's open shoulder, "Perhaps you don't have to wait."

Jack smiles brims, "Maybe not."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N: Well. This is definitely not what I thought I would be posting first. But alas, word vomit is word vomit. WOOOOHOOOOO. Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate you guys soooooo much you don't even know. Anyways, until next time.

-Memorykey3


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hey there everyone, I hope you didn't get the super glitchy version of this chapter. Shout out to Kath19 for telling me what was up! I am so sorry for the lengthy hiatus, I swear that waiting a year to post was not my intention. I actually wrote this directly after the first chapter, but I found myself not really liking it for some reason. I looked at it again this month and was like "Hey this isn't bad", edited it a little bit, and uploaded it. Thank you so much for your patience! You have no clue how much I appreciate it.

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Harry quickly ducked beside the wall, casting out a few 'expelliarmus' in attempt to unarm his attacker. He knew that signing up for a new agency would be dicey at best, but years had gone by since his time at the ministry and boredom was making him restless.

It had also been years since he'd last seen the captivating man in the bar. Harry had texted him— like any reasonable man would— they'd gone out on a few dates and then Jack was just… gone. Poof. Into thin air. Harry didn't take it too personally; Hermione had gotten tired of his whining within 3 days ("Harry, I didn't even complain this much when I gave birth"— That was an argument that would always shut him up). Her and Ron's kids were almost old enough for their own families, and yet Harry refused to age a day. He still didn't look any older than 20– definitely not representing his true age at all. This brought about some resentment from past and current friends, but there was really nothing to be done about this.

Harry had encountered a few relationships since, but none of them had really taken off. Something about them just felt… wrong. Incomplete. And so he continued on, swearing off of relationships for a little bit and instead signing on to this agency. He'd signed on under another name, one Thomas Green, in an attempt to separate himself from the wizarding world and everyone that would get star struck upon hearing his name.

And so he became Thomas Green— the very same Thomas Green engaged in battle in Cardiff of all places. He affixed a permanent glamor to the ring on his finger, turning his messy dark brown hair a sleek and shiny light brown, his deep green eyes shifting to a brilliant blue. Hiding his scar was more difficult, so he instead shifted it to the underside of his jaw, which he had made a tad broader. He would fit in better with the masses, rather than standing out as he had done before.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry had entered this agency as a private and slowly worked his way up the ranks. He merely presented himself as an eager body, making sure that he didn't showcase the lethality of his magic. Only its usefulness. He felt it was safer this way— for him and his enemies. Harry was NOT in the business of killing after all. Now maiming on the other hand…

His mission for today was supposed to be simple: infiltrate and extract. However, it was proving to be far more difficult, as there was an actual sentient and intelligent enemy for him to detain; a species with technology far greater than mankind. That said, this mission was still pretty low stakes— his enemy lacked basic conversational skills with one another and couldn't keep a firm grasp on his location.

Harry's eyes glanced down the hall, having long since heard his enemy grow silent. There stood a tall figure at the end of the hall, wearing a sharp looking grey coat and a striking outfit to match. Harry stowed his wand and raised his gun, affixing his sight enhancing glasses back on his face, and rounding the corner.

"Please state your name and business!"

There was a pause before the man replied, slowly turning around as if he knew there was a gun pointed to the back of his head, his own gun clattering to the floor. Harry could barely hold back a gasp as he took in just who he was looking at.

"My name is Captain Jack Harkness. I am a member of tor—"

Harry vaguely remembers feeling the butt of a gun glancing off of the back of his head before letting himself drop to his knees, feigning loss of consciousness— shock coursing through his body.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

AN: What did you think? Let me know! Where do you think this story is going? I'll admit that I'm not completely sure. Thank you for your patience, hopefully I upload in a more timely manner for the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** You think you'd see me so soon? After all, my upload schedule is what they call... sporadic at best. Truth is, I'm a sophomore in college (International Relations Major, with a German and Political Science minor), so life often bites me in the ass. It's reached the point where I have to force taking some time for myself because otherwise I might actually explode. SO, without further ado, here is chapter 3!

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Jack looked at the crumpled figure before him, not really taking in any features of the unconscious man.

"Did you have to do that?"

The Torchwood cadet shrugged and said, "You were being attacked. I only knocked him out."

Jack let out a long-suffering sigh, before stooping down and taking in the dumbfounded look the cadet gave him, "Come on. Help me bring him to base."

The cadet made no move to help, only spurred into action at the reminder of Jack's high rank and just how much pain not listening could cause him down the road.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The walk to base felt unbearably long. Jack was sure that the unconscious man had neutralized any possible enemies, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. Not being safe had caused Jack a litany of problems in the past and he definitely wasn't in the mood for any more issues. Today had been a relatively bad day— Jack had been woken up at the crack of dawn due to this imminent threat, his date from last night still in his bed. Needless to say, his date was not very happy and left with a frown on her face, which was not how Jack had hoped the morning would go.

Something was nagging at the back of his mind— had been for a while now. It felt like he had forgotten something important, a mind leech erasing a near and dear part of himself. Like he'd forgotten a favorite word, always on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say it so bad, and yet he remained tongue-tied.

But, he wasn't dead yet and he had a job to do. He could worry about the lapses in his memory later.

Jack took a closer look at the man that confronted him in the hall. He wouldn't stand out in a crowd, but there was something _interesting_ about him. Jack found himself transfixed to the ring on the man's finger— it called to Jack in a way, telling him to take it off, that something was to be found out.

Jack extended his hand, slowly reaching over to the sleeping man's hand and stopped. Almost as if on cue, the man stirred, a brief look of recognition flashed on his face before a confused look settled over his features. Jack jumped slightly before regaining his composure, the true look of a commander

"Where… am I?"

Either he was a great actor or truly had no idea where he was. Jack preferred to give him the benefit of the doubt in this instance. He would rather have an ignorant captive rather than an all-knowing one.

"You, my friend, are in one of the many bases for the association to which I belong."

The other man cocked his head, "And what organization is that?"

Jack paused and considered the other's words.

"You know I can't answer that."

The brit let out a shy laugh and a sheepish smile, "It was worth a shot. What _can_ you tell me?"

"I can tell you that I have the authority to question you if you are willing. It really shouldn't take too long."

The sharp laugh from the other man surprised the American, "What makes you think that I am willing to relinquish information about myself? After all, you did knock me out and drag me over here against my will."

The Torchwood captain bit back a sigh, "I assure you that knocking you out was not my intention. The cadet assigned to me got a little anxious. I brought you here because I figured that we were on the same side. We were taking out the same enemy, after all."

The room was totally silent for a second, allowing Jack to actually take in his surroundings for a change. It was a compound with thick cement walls— a heavy metal door nestled in the wall opposite Jack and the man he was questioning and a medium-sized window adjacent to the steel table they were seated at. He was afraid the other man was still upset due to his ill-treatment until he heard him speak.

"Enemy of my enemy…"

It was all Jack could do to nod in agreement before launching into another line of questioning.

"May I ask your name? My name is Captain Jack Harkness."

There was a brief moment of consideration before the other responded.

"Thomas Green."

"Thomas Green…" Jack let his name sink into his mind, "So, Mr. Green, what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"Serving the queen, of course."

"Really?"

Thomas scoffed, "Of course not. I work for a private company that has interests in technology and knowledge. I was here on a mission to remove the threat presented and to gather information."

Jack folded his hands in his lap, slightly annoyed. He figured the response was warranted, but that didn't stop him from being moderately aggravated, "So along the lines of private military?"

"You could say that."

A sly smile presented itself on Thomas's cheeks. Man, this guy was going to be hard to pin down.

"Are you ever going to give me a straight answer?"

Thomas shrugged, "You talk, I talk. You should know how this goes by now, _Captain."_

"We both know that I'm not going to talk."

"Then you should know that I won't either."

Jack didn't hold back his sigh this time, "That's what I was afraid of."

Another silence permeates the air.

Thomas leans in conspiratorily, mischief exuding from his aura, "I say we play a game— Information Chicken if you will. We both reveal little facts, leading up to more important information. Whoever is asked a question of which they have no desire answering, they have the option of not answering, but in return, they must reveal who they work for."

Jack considered the offer briefly and found himself agreeing with the terms the British man had set. It was a game that required cooperation; sure, you could just ask something extremely personal at the very beginning, but that wasn't a good way to yield information. Jack desperately wanted a great deal of information about Thomas and it was definitely more savory than any alternative Jack could think up. And so, he nodded his head in reluctant agreement, "Seems fair enough to me."

"Alright," Thomas leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, "Why don't you ask the first question."

"That's awfully kind of you," Jack deadpanned, before taking a second to think up a question. "Where are you from?"

The answer was immediate, "England. And you?"

Jack momentarily considered being a smart ass and replying with 'earth', but he rightly assumed that Thomas would deem that answer insufficient and the game would be cut short.

"A small place near America called Boeshane. When were you born?"

Thomas's expression changed to something resembling shock before settling back down into that teasing look he was wearing before, "June 31st, 1980. Any siblings?"

"You were born in 1980?! But you look so young!"

"I wasn't aware that 'but you look so young' was a quantity applicable to number of siblings."

"I'm not allowed to express shock?"

"Precisely", There was slight venom in his tone, "I get the feeling that you're older than you seem, so you have no room to be shocked at my age. Any siblings?"

Jack groaned and sunk into his seat, silently thankful that the mysterious man hadn't reused Jack's question, "Just one. How about yourself?"

"Not by blood, no. Any childhood nicknames?"

"Just one— they called me the face of Boe."

"Clever. Big ladies man?"

"And everyone in between— I don't discriminate. Is Thomas Green an alias?"

"To the government, no. To my friends, yes. How about you, 'Captain Jack Harkness'?"

"Your assumption is correct. How long have you been serving your organization?"

The questions and answers went rapid fire, barely giving Jack enough time to memorize how 'Thomas' had responded. He was sure that was somewhat purposeful— the more focused Jack is on one answer, the more likely he is to forget the response to another.

"Only for a couple of years. What motivates you?"

That question stuck out to Jack— it was oddly philosophical. He wasn't sure what Thomas hoped to gain from the answer Jack gave, "A better tomorrow. How about you?"

"You'll find that we're in agreement. What is your favorite place on earth?"

Jack felt something odd about the 'on earth' distinction that Thomas made, but he responded nonetheless, "Scotland, though I can't remember the last time I went there. What does a typical day look like for you?"

"I wake up, get ready for work, go to work, come back home, and go to sleep."

"Well, that doesn't seem particularly fun. What, no going out at night? No visiting friends?"

"I generally keep to myself. Hard to interact with others in a line of work such as this. Who do you work for?"

Well, if Jack was startled before, he was absolutely shocked now.

"Straight to the point, eh?"

"I was getting tired of this game."

Jack knew he shouldn't tell Thomas anything, but yet the words fell out of this mouth, "I work for Torchwood."

Thomas appeared relaxed, almost as if that response took a weight off of his shoulders, "Ahhh, Torchwood."

"You know Torchwood?"

Thomas shrugged, "Who would I be if I didn't know Torchwood?"

A thousand questions welled up in Jack's stomach, but his thought process was cut short as Thomas stood up and headed over to the door.

The American found himself standing, reaching his hand out to stop Thomas from leaving, "Where do you think you're going?"

Thomas paused for a split second, hand on the doorknob, "Are you going to stop me?"

"Well, no, but—"

Jack linked eyes with Thomas and for a split second his blue eyes flashed a vibrant green, "That's what I thought."

Thomas took a step closer to Jack, Jack backing up until his backside met with the edge of the table, "This was a nice chat, but I really must be going. If you see me on the street, don't hesitate to say 'hello'. Tell the Doctor I said 'the boy who lived says hello'."

"You-you know the Doctor?"

"Quite well, actually— though I never traveled with him. I had no interest back then. Anywho, have a nice day. I'll see you later."

It was all Jack could do to simply watch Thomas leave, door gently shutting behind him. He could only hope Thomas would make good on his promise.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **AN:** Sooo what did you think? I've got a bus to catch, but otherwise I would leave a far lengthier note. I hope you have an excellent day!

-MemoryKey3


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hi there, friendo. It is I, the ever elusive memorykey! I hope you enjoy this chapter, school is kicking my patoot. I can't promise any upload schedule, as my upload schedule is when I don't have an obscene amount of homework, so I want to say thank you for sticking with me and my horrible excuses. Now, without further ado, here is the chapter you all have been waiting for. Also, I don't own Harry Potter or Doctor Who. What part of broke college student don't you get?**

 _-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-_

 _Two years ago_

Jack basked in the tinkling laughter coming from the man seated across from him. Hadrian, Jack's mind supplying the other man's name like a magic word. It was a sound that he relished in, even though it was only released from the quiet Brit when Jack was making an absolute fool of himself. Because of the suave exterior the American put on all of the time, he didn't like to even hint at the fact that he could be a fool sometimes, but with Harry it didn't really matter. Jack just wanted to hear that laugh.

 _Harry._

That's what Jack had taken to calling him. Hadrian seemed a little shocked at first when the nickname slipped out of Jack's mouth, but the shock soon faded and it became commonplace. It was events like this that reminded Jack that he still had much to learn about Harry.

Jack didn't mind though, he had all the time in the world.

The two were currently being tourists in Scotland, taking in all of the major sights the country had to offer. They were currently settled in a pub, not a block away from the bed and breakfast the pair were staying at for the week.

One thing Jack could appreciate about Harry was his massive appetite for exploration and excitement, spending the majority of the trip with a massive smile affixed to his lips. Harry hadn't yet traveled with the tardis, but that was soon to come. Rose and the Doctor were off gallivanting on some planet in a nearby galaxy, no doubt getting into trouble. That was something Jack would have been jealous over a few years ago, but he found there was nowhere he would rather be than right here.

He had never felt anything like what he felt around Harry. Jack didn't want to put a name to the emotion out of fear of their respective lines of work. There was no real reason to be afraid, given the rather special circumstances that made the two especially difficult, if not impossible, to kill. He couldn't remember _why_ though.

 _Why_ couldn't Harry be killed?

 _Why_ was Harry so important to him?

Hell, Jack couldn't remember _how_ they met.

So, why exactly was _this_ the moment that surfaced in his deepest subconscious. Jack wasn't sure he would ever find the answer.

For now, he would just enjoy the view, and _god_ it was beautiful. Or rather, Harry was beautiful. The scenic cliffs of Scotland paled in comparison. Jack wanted to live in this moment forever.

The American felt a tugging at his hand and focused upon the hand that held firm to Jack's own, and then to the captivating eyes of the man sitting next to him.

"So, where to next, kind sir?"

Jack took a second to think before answering, "Well, there are few castles that could be interesting to check out," and then seeing the especially heated look emanating from across the table, "or we could get dinner and some wine from the grocery in the center of town and take it back to our room."

Jack could hear the smile in Harry's voice, "That sounds like a fine idea to me."

They paid their tab at the pub and made their way over to the grocery store, picking up a simple supper of sliced smoked turkey, Swiss cheese, and some bread, along with a rather large bottle of moscato and some pumpkin pasties from a local bakery as dessert.

The pair sat at the small table in their hotel room, enjoying their dinner and taking in the waning crowd on the street through the small window in the room.

It wasn't long before the other man had fallen asleep where he sat, the wine and food making the British man sleepy. Jack sat for a second, a bit baffled as to what to do next, the liquor in his system slowing his thinking. After much thought, the American stood up and peeled back the made up covers on the bed. Next, he untied Harry's shoelaces and gently removed the British man's shoes from his feet, placing them on the ground next to the nightstand. Jack gingerly picked up the other man, planting Harry on the bed and tucking him in the covers. Finally, he swiftly and quietly packed away the food and removed his own shoes, setting them next to Harry's. Afterwhich, he elected to strip down to his boxers and joined Harry in the bed, reaching over to the lamp to turn out the light. Once he was settled, Jack turned over to face Harry in the bed, Harry stirring just enough for their legs to intertwine and hands to clasp onto each other.

Harry's tired voice whispered something that seemed to fill the room with its weight.

" _I love you_."

The two shared a tender kiss, before sinking into the bed, taking in each other's presence. Jack surprised himself with his easy response.

" _I love you, too_."

If Jack were to ever point out a time in his life where his life was perfect, it would be this day, this place, this moment. Of course, that would all change by noon the next day…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 _Today_

Jack woke up in a cold sweat, wildly clutching at the opposite side of his bed. He was still alone. Jack wondered why he expected any different. He hadn't had a serious relationship with anyone in over 15 continuous years— something that his subconscious didn't seem to agree with. No matter, Jack had many other pressing matters to worry about other than his love life.

Thomas Green hung on Jack's brain, Jack desperately trying to figure out his importance.

Jack had stared at the door for a long time after Thomas left. His mind was swimming with knowledge, what he had gained and the lack thereof. It was going to take a decent amount of searching, but he would find out who Thomas truly is. 'The Boy Who Lived' sounded vaguely familiar but it was as if someone or something had wiped his memory clean. It seems as though the ever elusive Doctor was his only hope in figuring out just who Thomas is.

That was the hard part. There was no telling where the Doctor would be, but he did have a habit of showing up when it was necessary, so all Jack could do was wait.

That did not mean he couldn't do anything in the meantime.

Jack scoured all available governmental employee databases for 'Thomas Green'. Just about when he was going to lose hope, Jack found him.

It took an absurd amount of back pages and checking different departments, but Jack found one Thomas Green working in the financial department for MI5. MI5 definitely fit the bill for what Thomas dictated as his duties, namely gathering intelligence and the like. But why was he listed in the financial department of all things? Or listed at all?

There was little Jack could do to figure out who he was, short of going to every government agency with a description of Thomas and the hope that they'll willingly hand the man over. Why Jack wanted him so bad, Jack may never know. But having so many close encounters with the universe Jack knew, simply put, not to fuck with fate. So maybe it was his due diligence to pop into the nearest government buildings to look for him. Yeah, due diligence. And he didn't have any plans for the day. Might as well.

Perhaps it was that same fate that brought him to MI5's front desk, the receptionist pointing him to the fifth floor once she saw his torchwood badge.

"You'll find him in accounting."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **AN: What'd you think, y'all? Let me know what you think is going to happen next! See you next time!**

 **-Lauren**


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